Note to husbands and husband-like partners: IF YOU’RE TIRED OF YOUR WIFE ACTING LIKE YOUR MOTHER, STOP TREATING HER LIKE SHE IS!

I’m sure you’ve heard this scenario before. A wife calmly reminds her husband that he has an appointment or “nags” him to do some task he’s put off for weeks and he explodes! He acts like her simple request or reminder is a horrible insult to his male ego; that she thinks he’s incompetent or something. If he’s particularly upset, he’ll even tell her “STOP ACTING LIKE MY MOTHER!” The wife is often shocked at her husband’s outburst. After all, her request was reasonable or her reminder was appropriate. She knew her husband had been putting off this task for weeks and she was probably tired of waiting for him to figure out that it really needed to be done. She knew her husband was likely to forget he had that appointment because he always tends to forget that he has an appointment. In truth, his wife is merely taking on the role that her husband unwittingly had her take on.

So here’s the thing: We don’t set out with aspirations to act like a mother to our husbands; it just HAPPENS! And WHY it happens is simple; we learn to expect that our husbands aren’t going to do it BECAUSE THEY NEVER DO IT!!!

Their response when we point out that we’re taking on this role is “well, why didn’t you just ask me?”

There is a brilliant comic that illustrates why this is a problem, but I can sum it up a lot quicker: MOTHERS ask; WIVES expect. If we have to ASK our husbands to do things that should be obvious, like perhaps wash the dishes in the sink because they’re sitting in the sink and their wife is otherwise occupied, then that is putting us in the role of the mother.

WE SHOULDN’T HAVE TO ASK GROWN MEN TO DO WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE!!!!!!

Need a shirt washed? Well, how about instead of waiting for your wife to ASK you to do the laundry because she can’t get to it that day, you just assume that she might not be able to get to it that day and DO A FUCKING LOAD OF LAUNDRY!!!

Frustrated that there are dishes in the sink and your wife hasn’t gotten them done yet? HOW ABOUT YOU WASH THE FUCKING DISHES?

Is the garbage piling up and you know it’s your job but your wife hasn’t yet asked you to take out the garbage? HOW ABOUT YOU TAKE OUT THE FUCKING GARBAGE BEFORE YOUR WIFE ASKS YOU IN HER “ANNOYED VOICE” FOR YOU TO TAKE IT OUT?

See, we don’t start off as the nagging, annoyed wife. Here’s what actually happens:

Wife notices that the trash is full. Wife knows that it is her husband’s job to take out the trash and that the husband has agreed he will do it. Wife leaves the trash for her husband. Time passes. Wife notices that it’s been 2 days since her husband agreed to take out the trash. Wife notices that husband has left his plate/glass/empty can on the table/counter. Wife picks it up because it can’t be left out all day. Continuing with her other chores, wife hopes that the fact that SHE IS CLEANING THE HOUSE will cause her husband to notice that chores are being done and maybe he will remember to take out the trash. Husband comes home and immediately sits down to watch TV or play with his toys or whatever other non-chore thing he wants to do. He shows NO indication that he is going to remember the trash. The wife, trying to stay calm, reminds him that he needs to take out the trash. Husband says he will “later”. Wife reminds him that it’s been sitting for 2 days and the garbage truck is coming in the morning. Husband gets annoyed and says he KNOWS that, and that he doesn’t need her to remind him. Wife senses husband is irritated and tells him that she doesn’t mean to nag him, but he said he was going to do it 2 days ago and she really needs him to just do it now. “Stop acting like my mother!” is his response.

Or

A wife has been finding that all the tasks she’s had to do for her husband and children lately are more than she can handle on her own. She tells her husband (after he gets annoyed that there are dishes in the sink or no clean shirts to wear) that she has too much to do. He tells her “you should have asked for help then” in response. The wife bites her tongue even as she fantasizes about beating her husband with the frying pan she’s washing.

Did you notice the actual problem with either of these scenarios? If you’re a wife, you probably got it right away! “The husband is an idiot!” is likely the response. If you’re a man, you probably are clueless because after all, the wife didn’t ASK him for help. If she had just TOLD him what she wanted in the first place then there wouldn’t be a problem, right?

NO!!!!

IT IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE OUR JOB TO TELL OUR HUSBANDS WHAT THEY NEED TO DO!!!!

MOTHERS spend all their time asking things of their children. We point out that the cup needs to go in the sink, not be left on the table. We tell our kids that their toys need to be picked up after they’re done playing with them. Their homework needs to be done before they go to sleep. They have that report or test next week they need to work on/study for. They need to help out with the chores. They need to remember to feed the cat. Please clean your room. Please help me with the dishes. Do you see how I’m struggling with these bags, maybe you could get the door? Maybe instead of running straight to the TV you could notice that you left your shoes in the middle of the floor and there’s homework/chores that need to be done so don’t sit there for hours while Mom is busting her ass cleaning!

But husbands are NOT children. We go into our marriages assuming that our partners are just as capable of seeing the mess or the problem that needs solving. We assume that because they are adults that they should be able to SEE the pile of laundry on the floor and think “oh, right! I should probably put these in the laundry basket, or better yet, I could wash them myself since I’m not doing anything right now and it looks like my wife is busy at the moment.” We expect that if our husbands are in the kitchen and they notice that the dishes haven’t been washed, that they’ll start washing them. When instead we get eyerolls, tantrums, and complaints that there are no clean dishes, we get annoyed. We think “he’s a grown man! Why can’t he just stop complaining and WASH THE FUCKING DISHES?” Because while the husband complains about the dishes not being done, the wife is picking up the husband’s dirty clothes off the floor, throwing the empty can in the recycling bin, or picking up some other mess that her husband just left without thinking anything of it.

And then later, when the wife, tired from cleaning all day, forgets to turn off a light or put something of hers away IMMEDIATELY, her husband is quick to point it out. He then expects HER to pick up her cup or turn off the light, rather than do it himself because he spotted it. And if the wife points out that to her husband, he will say “if you wanted help you could have asked instead of given me that attitude about it”.

WE SHOULDN’T HAVE TO ASK!

Guys, try to understand this concept and ladies show this to your men the next time they pull this crap: Husbands who expect their wives to tell them what needs to be done are treating their wives like their mothers.

Every time you wait for your wife to tell you what to do, you are making her act like your mother.

Every time you expect her to remind you of something important, you are treating her like your mother.

Every time you think she should just ask you what needs to be done instead of using your fucking eyes and looking around the room before you sit your ass down, YOU ARE MAKING YOUR WIFE ACT LIKE YOUR MOTHER!!!

YOU are the one who put her in that role! YOUR behaviour is what has led to her taking on that role that you seem to resent so much when it no longer serves you. She LEARNED this role from YOU! In the beginning, she assumed you were capable of doing what needed to be done. When you repeatedly left dishes in the sink to pile up, she eventually gave up and washed them. When you repeatedly left your clothes on the floor despite her picking them up and putting them in the laundry basket in front of you, she gave up on you picking up your clothes and putting them in the basket. When you repeatedly forgot important appointments or things that needed to be taken care of in a timely manner, and then later said “well YOU forgot to remind me about it” in response when you were suddenly scrambling to make it to that appointment or take care of that task before then deadline, you taught your wife that she needed to become your secretary and remind you of your appointments and obligations. YOU did this to her! YOU showed her that you were incapable of doing these things on your own! YOU showed her you needed those reminders and that she had to pick up after you all the time. IF YOU WANT HER TO STOP ACTING LIKE YOUR MOTHER, STOP ACTING LIKE YOU’RE HER CHILD!!!!!

When your wife wakes up in the morning she thinks of all the things she needs to do that day. While she is doing these things, she notices other things. So she goes into the living room to clean up the kids’ toys and notices that the floor needs vacuuming. As she pulls out the vacuum cleaner she takes note that it will need emptying soon and the filter cleaned. So she picks up the toys, notices that the mats need to be wiped down, wipes those down, vacuums, and empties the container afterward and cleans the filter. She washes out the sink, notices that the dishes from last night need to be put away. She puts away the clean dishes, notices that the cupboard needs a quick tidy up and does that too. She sees that it’s getting close to lunch time so she starts to plan the lunch menu and remembers to also take out something for dinner as well. She starts lunch, prepares for dinner for later that evening, and recalls that she needs to do a load of laundry. She gathers up the clothes that were left on the floor and washes them, then puts the clean clothes into the dryer. She takes the clothes that were already in the dryer to the bedroom to fold and put away. There is still a long list of things she had planned to do, but she is unable to get to them. Exhausted, she takes a moment for herself and forgets to put something away that she had been meaning to get to. You see that she forgot to put the thing away and make a little comment about how she needs to finish what she started. She wants to kill you.

Now, here’s what typically happens with husbands when they’re asked to do something: You are asked to take out the trash. You notice that your wife hasn’t yet swept the floor and step in the dirt around the garbage can. You gripe about this. You take out the trash. At the door you notice your wife forgot to put the kids’ shoes away. You kick them out of the way, annoyed. You come back inside. You notice that you tracked dirt into the house and it will need to be cleaned up. You tell your wife that there’s dirt on the floor. She tells you she will get to it when she has time. You complain about her “attitude” and watch TV.

Here’s what your wife is thinking: ”He stepped in the dirt near the trash can? WHY wouldn’t he just clean it up before he took out the trash? Really, a simple pair of shoes in the middle of the floor has him upset? Just move them! How many times do I have to pick his shit off the floor or put it away? And now he’s tracked dirt into the house and yet he expects ME to drop everything I’m already doing and take care of it for him? Can’t he just bust out the vacuum cleaner like I do every time I make a mess unintentionally? And instead of just fucking doing this shit himself he’s going to bitch about it and then sit on his ass and watch TV? Seriously? Does he not see that I’m currently washing dishes that we ALL ate off of, cooking dinner that we ALL are going to eat, and that I still have a pile of laundry to fold that we ALL contributed to?”

Is it any wonder she has an “attitude”?

Guys, if you don’t want your wife thinking you’re an incompetent child, maybe you should stop acting like an incompetent child. Next time you see that she hasn’t gotten around to washing the dishes, do this:

Shut up.

Just shut the fuck upabout anything negative you have to say.

Don’t complain, don’t whine, don’t comment on how there’s dishes in the fucking sink. SHE KNOWS THAT THERE ARE DISHES IN THE SINK!!!!!!!! Just pick up the damn cloth, turn on the tap, and WASH THE FUCKING DISHES! And if you are thinking “but she’s the one who washes the dishes and if she wants help then she should just ask me” I want you to shut up right now and think “what would my wife do if she saw dishes in the sink?” If the answer is “she would wash the dishes when she had a spare moment or ask me to help out” then congratulations, you aren’t as helpless as you pretend to be! You DO know what to do!

Now GO DO IT and your wife will magically transform before your eyes into the sexy woman you fell in love with instead of the nagging shrew who seems to think she’s your mother!

Just a few weeks before Christmas my husband suggested we “test out” the playsets for the Disney Infinity we had bought for our son. His reasoning was that we could earn a few fun items for him as a surprise, since the Pirates of the Caribbean playset was probably going to be a little challenging for a four year old. It should be noted that we were severely underestimating our son’s abilities here, and he ended up schooling US on the game mechanics the same day he got the new pieces. But we didn’t know that yet.

We were tired, we were bored, and we really wanted to play the game. It seemed like a good idea. It would be fun, relatively simple, and we would be actually DOING something together besides falling asleep watching Netflix.

The thing about testing out a new area of a “world” is that we had no idea where the fuck we were going. I had woefully overestimated the usefulness of the “go here, moron” arrows that lead the Disney characters to their next objectives, and so I just assumed that my husband would figure out where he needed to go. To put it bluntly, I didn’t bother waiting for him to catch up and I often wandered off to do my own thing. I would be mindlessly collecting items and he would be like “hey, get your ass over to this ship so we can GO!”

Don’t Play Video Games With Your Spouse If You Don’t Know Where You’re Going…

I have ZERO sense of direction. I should mention that now, because that’s very important. I mostly wander around aimlessly on game maps and go by landmarks. Where am I? Well, see that thing I’m standing beside on my side of the screen? Go there. How did I get there? How should I know? I just followed the arrows and that’s where I went! Pay attention to where I was and know how to retrace my steps? Uh, no, sorry, didn’t do that. I followed the arrow. What do you mean that now because I got there first the arrows aren’t directing you to where I am? No I can’t come back to get you! Why? Because I DON’T KNOW HOW I GOT HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE AND I’LL GET US BOTH LOST!

Wait! Where ARE you? How did you get there? I don’t know where that is! What do you mean it’s over there? No, I’m nowhere near there. No, I have no idea…wait, how come I can’t just jump down here? Well THAT’S stupid! They should let people just jump! Look, can’t you just get to ME? Here, take my controller and take me to you then because I give up.

Well we get to Tia Dalma’s island and that’s pretty much been the conversation between us up until that point in the game. I’ve already gotten lost once when he took the lead and tried to get me to follow him to our ship. I have already shown him that I cannot follow directions; a reminder of all the other times I fail to follow simple directions in our marriage because I have a tendency to run on “autopilot”. I’m so used to just doing things on my own that I have a real problem shifting from that default setting and letting myself be “led” when it’s probably a better idea to just go with his plan in the first place.

In a nutshell: this is bringing out all our worst qualities and communication issues.

Especially When You Also Suck at Navigating

Things get worse as he tries to get to where I ran off to without him and he keeps asking me HOW I got there and what HE needs to do and I am ZERO help because honestly I just followed the arrows. I have never been on this map before. I know absolutely fuck all as to what I’m doing; I’m about as clueless as he is. The only difference is that my gaming style is vastly different from his. He likes to KNOW what he’s doing (like with most things in life); I just wing it (also like most things in life). I NEVER know what I’m doing, dude! How did I beat your ass? I pressed a bunch of buttons that did a super cool move and then I just mashed the shit out of it. How did I beat half my games? I button mashed the shit out of the “attack” commands. Strategy? What’s that? No strategy aside from “hack and slash at monsters, kill monsters, use any healing items/team mates as healers and magic users”. I don’t dodge attacks, I just keep hacking and slashing until you die. You can’t GET an attack in if I kill you before you can use the attack.

So he’s lost, he’s now getting extremely annoyed with my non-answers to his questions and my lack of any directions other than “just go that way. No, not that way. I guess maybe this way? No? I don’t know, there was a bridge and a gate…no, I don’t remember where it was. How should I know whether or not you already passed it? I have no idea where you are. You’re sure the arrows aren’t showing you the right way?”

If You Can’t Drive, DEFINITELY Don’t Play a Game That Requires Driving…

He finally convinced me to get on the little boat in the water (and thus ABANDON THE MISSION I WAS ON IN FAVOR OF GOING TO GET HIS ASS TO THE ISLAND I WAS ON–WASTE TIME) and then tells me to row to him. I have NO idea how to get the boat to move in the right direction because this game is so new to me and I am a shitty driver on land or on sea, and especially when I don’t know the terrain/map very well. So I get “stuck”. I can’t turn my boat around because I don’t know how and he’s getting MORE annoyed with my inability to help him or even do a “simple” thing like “drive a boat”. Well, to be fair, I am much better on land. I can jump and run and hack and slash on land. On the road or at sea I have to rely on technical strategy and…oh to hell with it, I’ll use HIS words: I have to “THINK instead of just DO”. That’s not my specialty. I don’t do thinking games unless it’s a puzzle, but even then I’m usually faking my way through those or cheating with YouTube videos to show me how to do it. HIS games are all racing and first person shooter games. HIS games require thinking before doing; they are not my games.

Be In the Mood To Kick Each Other’s Asses to Diffuse the Tension

So back to the clusterfuck that was this game, he finally takes my controller from my hands to make my character meet up with his character. The arrows fix themselves so that we both now are being led in the right direction. We get on land and he immediately slashes at my character.

“Hey!” I shout; indignantly I might add.

“You pissed me off,” he shrugs.

I unleash my masterful sword techniques on his unwitting character and Davy Jones’ fish men look on in confusion because we’re killing each other instead of going after them and the treasure they are trying to beat us to.

Don’t Try to Do a Puzzle Without Communicating Your Intentions…

The next part of the level was…a puzzle. Yep. And much like the boat incident, I’m used to just doing things and letting the pieces fall as they might. My husband gets to that area and starts pressing random trigger spots, messing up my progress and irritating the shit out of me.

“Well, we need to communicate,” he says.

Clearly. Isn’t that what every relationship expert says? Well, here’s the thing about being in a relationship for almost ten years or more. You get lazy. You get REALLY bad at communication. You’re tired, he’s tired, the kids have worn you down and you just get into this bubble of thinking the other person should just KNOW what you mean. You’ve been together for TEN YEARS! Shouldn’t they KNOW by now, without you having to say anything?

And in this case, he can SEE the screen! He’s looking at the same thing I am! Can’t he figure out what I’m trying to do? It’s NOT rocket science! It’s not a cup on the table or a pile of laundry on the floor; he should be able to figure out that if I’M jumping on that ledge to climb the statue HE should be doing the same thing. But no, he’s not following me and then he asks “how did you get up there?” and I’m like “I followed the arrows”.

“How did you get to the other end of the island so quickly?”

I. Followed. The. Arrows.

A Relationship Tester Not Seen Since Mario Party…

He did not follow the arrows. He did not climb the statue. He did not slide down the rope to the other side of the island. And the kicker is that if you do not follow your team mate in THIS playset, you can’t take the ship out to sea. You can’t do shit without the other team mate getting back to the ship too. There’s no option to force them into your area like in the Toy Story playset where if I wanted to go to the Goo Volcanos/Cave I could just go there, and my son or husband had the option of hitting the square button and joining me no matter where they were on the map. That homing beacon was a lifesaver for all the times they got their asses lost on the map and I needed to get shit done. But there is no failsafe in the original playset of Incredibles/Pirates/Monsters Inc.

Perhaps Disney realized the error of their ways when marriages imploded and siblings murdered each other and families were torn apart in a violent bloodbath not seen since Mario Party became a thing? I don’t know the answer, but I do know that after we gave our son the games and I played through the maps with him (and we did eventually beat the Pirates game) that my husband walked in the door after work, took one look at the screen and the level we were currently jumping and climbing and hacking and slashing (and mastering) our way through.

“Is that the same island that we had trouble on?”

“You mean the island that almost destroyed our marriage? Yep”.

Our son chimes in and tells his daddy how we beat the game and killed the bad guys and the Kraken is our friend now and helps take down the ships.

I’ve had this entry sitting in my documents file for almost 2 years now but wasn’t sure if I should share it. It’s not exactly a pretty picture and I hate showing the uglier sides of myself, but today I came across it and re-read it, and I’ve decided that YES, this needs to be out there. This needs to be said because somewhere out there is a new mother who is overwhelmed by other people telling her she needs to just put the baby in the bassinet and she’s getting NO sleep and she feels guilty for the times she ignores the “advice” and falls asleep with baby in the bed with her. So this post is for those mamas who think that they are horrible human beings because the “sleep training” isn’t working and they are at the brink of madness trying to get their child to sleep on their own. This is for the mamas who want to co-sleep, but continue to have opposition from their support people.

I’m sharing this to tell you all it’s OK. This night was my breaking point. I had tried up until that point to do what everyone else said was best for my son, even knowing that he just wanted and needed the comfort of my arms to fall asleep and stay asleep. Now, at almost 2 years old, he still reaches for me. He still likes to wrap his little arms around mine. He feels safer and more secure in my arms. I’m able to slip away and join my husband in the living room to watch a few hours of TV or join him in the bedroom, or just enjoy a few moments to myself to write or play video games. It wasn’t always this way; there were nights when I was trapped in the bed with nothing but my Nintendo DS, a pokemon game, and my tablet for reading and watching movies on YouTube. But it gets easier, and I no longer have nights like this, where I’m fighting with my son to sleep on his own. Some nights he rolls away from me and I get more space, other nights he’s practically sleeping on top of me like he did as a baby. I’m at least getting sleep though; maybe not as much as if I’d sleep trained him, but I’m confident that I made the right decision after looking back on what that night was like for me physically as well as emotionally.

This took place the summer that my son turned 2 months old…

12am

Baby is hungry again. No problem, I’m fine with staying up a bit longer. Husband is going to bed. He’ll get a few hours to himself and I get a few quiet hours to read blog posts on my laptop. Baby will eat and fall asleep, and Mommy gets time to herself without Daddy interrupting her thoughts. It’s win-win for everyone.

1am

Baby isn’t quite ready for a DEEP sleep yet. No problem. Mommy is enjoying her computer time, even while rocking Baby in her arms to try to get him to sleep.

2am

Baby appears to be asleep now. Tiptoe to bed, carefully lie Baby down in bassinet. No, don’t fuss, it’s okay…go back to sleep…good. False alarm. Drift off to sleep.

You have to be kidding me! Seriously why the fuck won’t you stay asleep? I just fed you. No, you don’t want the breast? Well don’t pull off it like that! Oh great, now milk is spraying everywhere. Well you’re the one that got it going and then pulled off. What did you expect? Yeah, you’re pissed it sprayed you in the face? How do you think I feel? Where is that towel? I hope it’s not all over my blanket and pillow like last time. I just washed these sheets.

2:45am

Fine, I give up. I’ll go to your room, rock you in the chair. What’s that, Husband? YOU want ME to calm down? YOU’LL take him? And do what? No. You go back to sleep. After all, you need your rest. YOU have a job. I just stay home.

I just had a very violent thought of throwing you across the room. At the wall. So I hold you tighter and whisper that I love you.

3:45am

I’m crying and you won’t stop squirming. My back is killing me as I try to hold on to you. I can’t do this anymore. I’m so frustrated with you right now and if I don’t put you down…

3:46am

I’m sorry. I’m a horrible mother, I know. Yeah, that floor isn’t comfortable. Sorry for that too, but I had to put you down. Be happy I put you on top of your receiving blanket first. I love you, but you’re driving me insane.

I can’t stay mad at you when you look up at me with those eyes. I feel horrible. I’m the worst mother in the world and you’re a beautiful, innocent child. How can I be so upset with you. You just want to be held. Okay, I’m picking you up. Shhh. It’s okay. Don’t cry. Mommy’s sorry. I love you so much and I’m sorry. Okay, we’ll rock in the chair some more. I’m sorry I can’t comfort you more than this. This is all I can do.

4am

Yeah, I know you just spit up all over my arm. It’s cool. I don’t care anymore. Why bother wiping it off? Hell, my boobs are leaking all over me anyway so what’s the difference? I’ll just stare at the wall while you attempt to climb all over me. You’re two months old; you can’t get too far. I wonder if this is how it starts. Maybe I AM depressed already and just can’t see it? I should really consider meeting up with those other moms for support. Oh hell, like I can even find time right now! I just want to sleep. Please…just let me slee–wait a minute. Are you–?

4:15am

YES! You are asleep! Careful…don’t move too fast. Okay, get the door open…shut it before the cats can get in. Yep, you’re finally out! Okay…get into bed, lean back on the pillows…ahhh.

4:30am

That’s right. Snuggle on Mommy. Let’s all sleep for at least five hours. Fuck those “well-meaning” relatives! Bed-sharing just WORKS for me and I’ll be damned if I’ll feel guilty. I tried the bassinet and it didn’t work. Besides, if he wakes again I can just put him on my breast.

When I first got pregnant I had NO idea how many stupid comments, questions and unsolicited advice I was going to be putting up with. I also had no idea how many times I would be itching to say EXACTLY what was on my mind. Despite the old adage to just “smile and nod” I haven’t the temperament to simply take every comment good naturedly, while laughing it off in a little Snow White giggle and smiling stupidly as if it’s the most clever/kind suggestion anyone’s ever made (that I totally haven’t heard a million times already). Well, I DO have that capacity, actually, but I can tell you that it is 100% FAKE! I don’t care who you are or how many kids you have or what your credentials are, and sorry, but it doesn’t even matter if you’re family or friend and I actually LIKE you. The fact is that I’m NOT Snow White (despite what you might assume from my fabulous Disney Princess-like singing voice) and even if I’m smiling, nodding, and responding good naturedly, I’m actually thinking something totally different in my head. #sorrynotsorry

So now I bring you…

The Sarcastic Answers to Stupid Comments and Questions

You’re so young/too young to be a mom!

I KNOW, right? I mean, I’m not really sure if you realize I’m almost thirty and were trying to pay me a compliment on how I totally haven’t aged AT ALL, or that I have a baby face, which was actually NOT so awesome when I was eighteen because I looked like I was twelve. Or are you questioning my maturity level or assuming that my husband has a child bride? I’m confused, which is it? And if it’s the first one, well thanks for telling me that not only do I NOT look like I’m turning thirty, but I still look like a child bride because as you said it, I look TOO YOUNG to be a mom. So I’m guessing that with most “average” moms being at least in their twenties by YOUR standards, I’m what? Fifteen? So either you think I’m a teen mom or you’re totally LYING about me being too young, OR you think I’m not mature enough to BE a mom. In any case, you’re not only wrong, you’re insulting in your assumptions.

You’re going to wean him SOON, right?/When are you going to wean him?/You know, he’s old enough to not NEED to nurse/etc

REALLY? You don’t say! I had NO idea that at some point I would have to wean my toddler off the boob just because YOU said so! I mean, it’s not like this is working for us or anything, or that I haven’t done any research, or even that my kid isn’t even 3 years old yet! But thank you SO much for simultaneously offering your opinion I didn’t ask for and judging me for a choice that literally has nothing to do with you. I mean, is he sucking on YOUR boobs too? I suppose you’re going to also tell me that if I don’t wean him NOW that he’ll still be pulling my boobs out of my shirt to nurse when he’s a teenager, right? But hey, didn’t you KNOW? I’m totally going to do this forever, just because it’s making you so uncomfortable and that’s why I’m doing it anyway. It’s not because it’s a magical way to get him to fall asleep/calm down/get extra nutrients when he’s sick or teething or just doesn’t feel like eating food today. Nope, it’s just because you find it so disconcerting! Mission accomplished.

I would never want a home birth or birth without drugs/ you’re crazy for wanting that/you should stop thinking about YOUR EXPERIENCE and do what is best for your BABY

Gasp! You mean I’m being totally selfish for wanting to avoid all the stress and interventions of the hospital? And YOU wouldn’t do it so that makes ME wrong for wanting it? Oh wow, am I ever mistaken for thinking I was an individual with my own wants, needs and experiences apart from yours. And clearly because YOU would rather birth with all the drugs and hospital procedures that means that I am just nuts to not do it that way. I mean, I was totally thinking how awesome it would be to die and what more dramatic way than to have it during childbirth where I get the chance to possibly take someone WITH me! And it’s not like I have done any research at all about anything; nope, I just came to this decision because I saw it on TV/read it in a book once and thought it sounded neat. But thank you SOOOO much for showing me the error of my ways.

He really needs to learn not to bite/hit/act out like that/Have you tried telling him NO/Why aren’t you disciplining him when he does that?

NOOOOOO, you mean the tantrum/abuse that my spirited toddler just demonstrated is NOT proper behavior and I should be correcting it? Okay, I was totally not at all aware that hitting and biting me and other people isn’t a good thing and I was just going to let him keep doing it, because hey, I looooove the searing pain that comes with sharp toddler teeth biting into my flesh! And those meltdowns and tantrums and the throwing of the toys? Yeah, I dig that soooo much. And hey, discipline isn’t something I believe in or even something I’ve tried AT ALL. Nope, I totally haven’t tried sitting him on the floor every time he bites, or telling him NO, or putting him in his room to scream for a minute or more, or you know, done ANYTHING to try to stop this behavior. Clearly I don’t know the first thing on how to discipline my kid and totally needed your input. Thanks.

He should really be sleeping by himself by now/He’ll never learn to sleep alone if you keep co-sleeping with him/You should sleep train; it worked so well for my kid(s)

You know, I was just sooo set on having him sleep next to me well into his teens that I never realized that what you’re saying makes more sense. Because clearly sleeping next to my toddler is forming all kinds of bad habits and I should just cut that sh** out right now! I guess you’ll be staying overnight on my couch and are committed to sleep training him for me? After all, if you’re soooo concerned about our sleep habits then I guess you’re also willing to make sacrifices so that I can continue to enjoy the sleep I’ve been getting due to my choice to co-sleep this long. So when can I expect you to start taking the night shift so I can do that?

When are you having another baby/you should give him a sibling

Well it’s funny you should mention that because my husband and I have been having sex at least once a month for quite a while, but I just haven’t managed to get pregnant yet. Do you think maybe we’re doing it wrong? Do you have a certain position in mind? I mean, the last time I got pregnant was soooo long ago, maybe I’ve forgotten how it’s done? Maybe it’s the fact that we’re doing it on the couch, yep, right where you’re sitting, actually…

Is he a good boy/He looks like such a little angel

NO, he really isn’t. And this is NOT me being sarcastic, but absolutely serious. The truth is that this kid puts me through hell most days because fun fact: he’s got a perfect blend of both my and my husband’s strong-willed temperament and it is EXHAUSTING. Yes, he’s soooo sweet right now. That’s because he doesn’t know you. He’s putting on the charm and it’s totally working, but you know, if you want to babysit I totally will take you up on that offer…and then laugh my ass off when my son has a meltdown as I walk out the door. Then I’ll smile like a maniac when you later tell me how “busy” he was and the more he gets to know you, the more he’ll act out, until one day you’ll be looking forward to the time when you get to hand him back to me. Trust me, it won’t take more than a week. Do I love him? YES. Is he draining? Hell yes. That’s why I do the things I do; it’s survival.

Did he eat anything today/what did he eat/did he have (insert certain meal)?

NOOOOO, I totally forgot that toddlers need to eat and so I’ve just been making food for myself all day. He can survive off of crumbs on the floor and water out of the cat’s bowl, right?

What time does he go to bed/wake up/go for a nap?

You mean I was supposed to strap him down to his bed at a set time every day and force him to sleep even if he’s not tired? And then, when he’s sleeping peacefully I’m supposed to wake him up from that sleep and say “sorry kid, doesn’t matter if you’re still tired and we have nowhere we need to be, it’s TIME TO GET UP, because someone else said so!”

You should use his naptime to get things done

You know, I never thought about that, like AT ALL! I just totally got into the habit of falling asleep next to him but you’re right, I don’t need sleep. I can totally keep my eyes open after spending all morning chasing this kid around the house and then trying to get him to burn off all that energy by going for a walk to the park. Yep, the first thing I should be doing after draining my energy levels is to burn off MORE energy I don’t have by getting the house cleaned while he naps. And you know, when he wakes up from that nap he will see all the things I’ve accomplished and think “wow, the house is clean now and Mommy worked so hard, so maybe I won’t throw all my toys around the house, pull clothes out of drawers, smear my snacks all over the table and floor or pour out all the water in my sippy cup.”

Well *I* managed to do it with *4* kids (or some variation of that)

You know what, that’s probably because you’re such an awesome and productive human being and I’m just so lazy and scatterbrained and probably don’t manage my time well at all! I’m just such a terrible mother to not be able to handle one little toddler AND get all my housework done AND still have time and energy for my husband AND keep my sanity AND not totally want to beat you over the head with one of my son’s toys that are all over the floor (as you so kindly have pointed out, because I hadn’t noticed my house looks like a toy store exploded).

You don’t say? Because I was under the impression that I was staying home to let the toddler fend for himself and get into all manner of things while I watch TV and ignore his antics, and then proceed to let the magical cleaning fairies tackle the housework. But no, you’re right, this IS my job! So when are you going to pay me for all the hours I’ve put in? Do I get vacation time and health benefits or is that something I need to work extra for? And while we’re on the topic of this being my job, well, I think we need to discuss a raise because when I first took on this job there was only ME to look after and last year I got the same wage even though I had to also care for a tiny human that had to be in my arms constantly and ate several times a day, and NOW I have even MORE responsibility chasing after this tiny human who now has the capacity to get into everything, make messes faster than I can clean them and has started to scream at me for no reason (causing me to seriously consider going on stress leave), and I’m STILL only making zero dollars an hour for all my efforts and not getting the employee recognition and appreciation for it. So where’s the HR rep so I can file a complaint?

If you hadn’t left it out he wouldn’t have grabbed it/If you were watching him he wouldn’t have gotten into that

You mean I can’t just magically assume that you’re going to be the responsible adult and keep an eye on him? Oh, I’m sorry, my mistake. I guess I was too busy washing dishes/cleaning up/cooking dinner and didn’t realize that you were busy watching TV/doing some other crap that doesn’t matter and couldn’t keep an eye on the toddler for me; you know, considering you’re right there and could have moved that stuff yourself because he’s standing two feet from you.

I don’t understand; he NEVER hits or bites ME

That’s because he hates me. Also I’m a terrible mother and I totally taught him it was okay to bite and hit me, because I’m in a weird S & M relationship with my kid.

You should be taking him to more classes/mom groups

Really, you don’t say? You mean he’s not going to learn all the things pre-schoolers typically learn by observation unless I make an effort to take him to classes where he can terrorize…er, I mean PLAY, with other kids? And I can totally not worry that he’s going to act out because he doesn’t feel like being there that day, or I don’t. And you say that my plan to let him learn at his own pace because he’s not even 2 years old is flawed and if I don’t take him he’ll NEVER learn how to talk or read or write or say his ABCs and 123s? And he won’t know his colors either? Well didn’t you know? I am intentionally NOT taking him to those things because I want him to be stupid! I mean, I never went to those classes as a kid either and I probably should have because I never learned how to write and I can’t read and I think that white is gold and blue is black and that a circle is a square! Oh if ONLY my family members had made more of an effort to take me to actual classes instead of sitting down with me several times a day and reading books and having me point at the pictures, because clearly the fact that my son loves to bring me books to read is an indication of how very little he’s learning.

He needs to socialize with other kids

See, and here I was thinking that I’d just keep him locked in his room while my friend is visiting with her kid during our weekly playdate. After all, the whole point of her bringing her toddler along is so that he can play with all the cool toys by himself. It’s a sort of fun torture/experiment I’m conducting, you know, because I’m such a terrible mother and have no idea what’s best for my kid.

Have you thought of (insert whatever annoying parenting suggestion/tactic here)?

Of course I haven’t! That’s what YOU’RE here for, remember? I don’t think about anything at all and have NO idea what I’m doing. Heck, it’s a miracle my kid survives at all since I don’t know the first thing about keeping him alive and happy and well adjusted. In fact, if you weren’t here to give me all this unsolicited advice I’d probably have accidentally starved him or forgotten him in the middle of the parking lot and he’d never learn how to talk or interact with others. But thank god you’re here to make sense of this oh so confusing thing called parenting. I couldn’t possibly have figured it out on my own and you know all those books and articles on the internet about it all look like a bunch of lines and squiggles and funny shapes to me; I can’t make sense of ANY of it! And I can’t think for myself either, so you totally need to tell me what to think, too.

If you think THIS is hard, wait until you have more than one

And here I was under the impression that the first kid was going to raise the next one. Boy, I had NO idea that TWO would be harder than ONE.

Well *I* did (insert parenting strategy) and it worked for ME

That’s because I’m a crappy mother and you’re better than me. Don’t you just feel so special now?

It started Friday afternoon and continued into Saturday. The toddler was cutting molars and had spent the whole week wanting to be up “in arms”. He incessantly screamed, either due to the irritation of his gums OR because he likes the sound of his own voice at high decibels. Or he’s just trying to see how loud he can scream before my eardrums shatter; just to give you an idea of what I mean by screaming. When he wasn’t screaming he was climbing all over the furniture, grabbing for everything and anything that he shouldn’t be, and making a mess. He was pulling every toy out of the toy boxes and drawers. He pulled all his books out of his bookshelf. And rather than leave them in a big heap close to their home, he decided it would be fun to throw them across the room, or at me. If I told him to stop he hit me. If I put him in time out he’d scream bloody murder. If I was on the phone he’d scream in my ear or try to climb onto my back and steal the phone. He bit me!

If that wasn’t bad enough, he resisted naptime. When naptime arrived I took him into his bedroom and lay down with him on the mattress. He proceeded to climb all over me and insisted on nursing the entire hour and a half! If I tried to move away, he’d wake up. He also insisted on being able to hold my hair in his fist and screamed if I took it away. This was very much the state of things at bedtime too. I spent a lot of time in his bedroom, is what I’m saying.

And before I get any crap about nursing and co-sleeping, let me just extend my middle finger and tell you that NOT doing those things would have made everything WORSE. So kindly go to hell with that condescending “advice”.

Anyway, in addition to not playing by himself, not allowing me even five minutes to get things done without wanting “up” in my arms (and screaming/crying if I didn’t pick him up right then and there) and not getting proper sleep, he also didn’t want to eat! Normally he’s a good eater. He’ll eat whatever is on our plates, and if I hand him a plate of his own food he will eat it no problem. But that week he decided that rather than EAT his frozen vegetables, he was going to dump the bowl on the glass coffee table and spread them all over it and the floor! He did the same with his cheerios. And this was AFTER I had bothered to sweep and mop the floor.

Husband came home around 6pm every night, but often had things to do after that and so I was STILL left all day and part of the evening with a highly fussy toddler while HE got pissed/annoyed at me for not “paying attention” when our son got into his crap that he had left out where he could get it. Or because he had to get ready to go out for his training for his second career opportunity he’s started up, and our son was distracting him by following him around and screaming. Because it’s SOOOOO hard to get dressed and tie a friggen tie when you have a kid screaming and following you around. Oh, wait, I have to do my hair, put on makeup, get dressed and it’s somehow “not a big deal” for me to be expected to watch our son at the same time! The only response I could give was “welcome to MY world”, because seriously, I was just DONE.

So…that brings us to Friday and Saturday. I’ve dealt with this kid all week with NO help from anyone else in this stupid house. The men are acting like their crap is way more important/can’t wait until later. I haven’t been able to shower or brush my hair. I haven’t had a moment’s peace and the house is a cluttered mess. It’s utter chaos and I’m stressed to the point of breaking.

So Friday afternoon I just gave up. I couldn’t do it anymore. 3pm and I was DONE! I took my son into his bedroom, left the door open, and lay down and took a nap. He was lying beside me, nursing on and off as he liked. Every few minutes he would get up and wander out of the room, grab a toy, bring it to me, and lie back down. I have super sensitive hearing; I know where he is and what he’s doing without having to see him. So I was listening for him the entire time I’m lying down on the floor mattress in his room, lights out, trying to calm my shot nerves. He comes back, settles down beside me, and quietly plays with a toy.

Grandpa gets home soon after that. I don’t get up. I roll over and close my eyes as my son runs to the door to greet him. I remain in the bed, drifting in and out of consciousness while Grandpa plays with him. In all this time, not once do I hear “where’s Mommy?” nor do I hear my name. After about 20 minutes he goes down to his suite and my son runs back to the bedroom. That’s when I get the phonecall from my irate husband, demanding to know why I was sleeping while our son was wandering around the house by himself. I snap “he wasn’t! I was just in the bedroom. He ran to greet your dad and I just stayed in the room the whole time because I’m tired and don’t want to deal with shit right now.” Husband tells me that his dad assumed I was sleeping. Well thanks for asking! Ugh!

Anyway, Father-In-Law basically got nosy, assumed I was being negligent, and now I’m getting my wrist slapped like a naughty child over it. I guess it’s easier to be a judgmental ass than it is to…oh, I don’t know, actually HELP OUT? But no, that hasn’t occurred to him at all.

So this leads to Saturday. Husband once again has to work and I once again get NO break. My energy reserves are shot to hell and all I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry. So when my son gets up in the morning, I keep the door shut. I lie there in the bed, pulling the covers over my head and try to sleep. He can’t hurt himself in this room and he can’t destroy anything except for his own things, so why the hell not? He proceeds to climb all over me, pull his books out of his bookshelf, and amuse himself. He periodically comes back to me to snuggle and nurse, then lies down to nap. We stay in that room until 12 noon, when the husband gets home from work on his lunch break. I pretend we just got up from a “nap”. No need to tell him that naptime lasted all morning because I didn’t feel like getting up.

Now to the outside world looking in, if they’d seen the events of these two days they’d assume I was a neglectful mother. But that’s the trouble with assumptions. I’m a very loving mother by design. I would have to be loving considering the way that I parent my son. I refuse to leave him to cry himself to sleep (or, “sleep train”) and I’m weaning him at his own pace. He knows that he can always come to me for comfort. In fact, on Friday when I had the door open at one point he got scared by the cats (because he was tormenting Bella and she took a swipe at him). He ran right into the bedroom and nursed for a few seconds for comfort, then was okay again and ran off to play. No tears, no fear, no distress. Just “mommy, I’m scared, I need a quick hug and nursies.”

But all this giving of myself takes its toll, because of COURSE it does! And this kid isn’t easy to care for because he’s so intense and focused on what he wants. He’s a big ball of energy and he will burn it all off and crash, then wake up and be ready for more. And when he’s cutting teeth he is The Worst because he takes his misery out on me. He bites and chews on everything and I’m constantly chasing him down for putting something else in his mouth (often paper or thread off of a blanket). It’s physically exhausting and emotionally draining, and it doesn’t help when I’m alone with him all day only to have my husband come home and expect me to “keep him busy/happy” because HE needs to get stuff done.

So yes, every now and then it gets to be too much for me. Moms need breaks too! It’s just a shame that my father in law doesn’t seem to realize that if I’m snapping at my child, it’s because I haven’t had the chance to truly relax in days, if not weeks. And yes, it’s great that he takes his grandson for ten minutes to the park or with him on an errand, but that is hardly enough time for me to recharge. And I get that my husband has to work, but when he’s NOT working he still seems to need to “get things done” that I KNOW he can put off for at least a few hours. But no, everything is more important and nobody in this house seems to get that I’m only stressed out because of the fact that when they are home they are off doing their own thing. And then *I* get called out for breaking down every once in a while, because clearly I’m not supposed to do anything but be a Stepford Wife (in Father in Law’s opinion) or else just “chill out” (according to the Husband).

So what is the lesson here? We shouldn’t be quick to judge moms in their “ugly” moments.

That mother who gets up in the morning and immediately turns on the TV for her kids and leaves it on all day? She’s doing what she needs to do in order to survive the day.

The mom who hasn’t left her house all day and is still in her pjs at 6pm when her husband arrives home? She might not have had time to get dressed, too busy chasing after kids and trying to clean the house or accomplish some other tasks that needed to be done.

The mom who takes her kid to McDonalds? She probably just didn’t want to cook that day or hasn’t had the chance to go to the grocery store, or she’s just really craving mcnuggets.

The mom who hands her kid her phone and lets them play with it in the store? Probably just doesn’t want to deal with anymore tantrums today.

The mom who cosleeps and nurses her toddler? She’s found a way to catch up on the sleep that she desperately needs and can’t seem to get any other way.

And the mom who yells at her kid or just lies on the couch/in bed while they tear through the house? She might have been having a really crappy week and just couldn’t take it anymore.

So a few weeks ago my husband had the day off and we spent a lovely afternoon taking our 10 month old for his very first trip to the pool. He loved it and we were happier than we have been in a while. This is partly because Ty changed jobs and in addition to making more money his boss isn’t a complete dickwad. So husband comes home happy now instead of stressed out and wanting to punch the wall. Win.

Anyway, he still wanted to drop by the old shop for some reason, probably to show off our awesome kid. And while we’re there, his old supervisor who is also inexplicably “buddies” with Ty had the nerve to ask me something of which is none of his damn business: Do I have a job yet.

No. And fuck you for asking!

Seriously, I am so sick of this mentality that being a stay at home mother implies I’m just lazy. I am not fucking lazy. I have worked plenty of demeaning low wage jobs in my life when I had no fucking choice. But now that I’m raising a kid and doing more shit in a day than I ever did out in society, unpaid, I might add, it’s not good enough.

You want to know why I’m not working? Here is why!

1) Childcare is fucking expensive. Like $600 and up, expensive. Out here it’s actually more than that, even part-time, because there is no such thing as a daycare that will take your kid “whenever” you feel like dropping them off.

2) My job options are either retail or some other service job. They all pay minimum wage and I would be working less than 20 hours per week.

3) I would make less than the cost of childcare. So essentially I would be paying to go to work.

4) After 10 years of working with the public I have no desire to go back. I was so stressed out after work that I never wanted to goanywhere or do anything. Sure, there were things I loved about my job, but the stress just isn’t worth it. Also, people suck.

5) Working nights or weekends would ensure I never see my husband. Or I’ll come home exhausted and just go to bed. We have been on opposite schedules most of our relationship. When I worked evenings we sometimes didn’t see each other until 10pm and I was too tired to do more than eat a quick meal. When I worked mornings I was in bed by 9pm, sometimes earlier. He was off weekends, I always worked one or both days. So if I went back to that we would be sacrificing the little time we have as a family.

6) I don’t want to miss anything. Yes there are times when my son drives me crazy but I would still choose him over a job any day. I don’t want to miss a second of his childhood and Ty sadly hears about a lot of the cute things Hunter does through me telling him. You can’t get that time back.

7) I loathe the idea of someone else raising my kid. I know a lot of daycare moms are about to get defensive but for me, this is a real issue. I am not judging you for leaving your kid with someone else, and I’m not saying you’re doing the wrong thing. But for me, I just would rather raise my son myself 100% of the time.

8) My income is not needed. Ty has been able to keep us comfortable for over a year and even when I was working I barely covered my half of the rent. So really, my income is supplementary and now that we have a child it really makes no sense for me to be working at all. I get more from Child Tax than I would from part-time retail.

9) I already have a job. This is the part I really can’t stress enough. I work every fucking day, with a few days off a month when Ty takes our son for Daddy & Son Day. And even then, that one day off a week is not guaranteed in length or availability. This job has brutal hours and sometimes puts me under house arrest for want of transportation and an agreeable companion. I get shit on, pissed on, snotted on, screamed at. My hair gets pulled and I have baby fist sized bruises everywhere. My back aches from carrying a 20 lb squirming toddler on my hip, and I never have a moment’s peace. It is a miracle when I manage to get half the cleaning done and I feel like a fucking superhero when my husband comes home to a clean house and a happy family. If I managed to brush my hair and put on clothes that aren’t yoga pants I’m employee of the fucking month! If I do it more than once in a week I deserve a freaking medal.

Where’s my freaking medal????

Oh, that’s right. I do all this shit for free.

I get up every day, knowing that no matter what I do, the house will never be clean enough. I wake up each day wondering what sort of catastrophe I will have to endure. What meltdowns I will deal with from my unreasonable toddler. What crap I might have to take from my overworked husband. What we’ll have for dinner. Whether or not we’ll even get to eat dinner at a decent hour. Whether or not the kitchen will be a disaster by the end of the day. How often I’m going to get screamed at. Whether the kid will even have a proper nap.

There are so many variables to my day and even if I start off with a freaking to-do list and have good intentions and say to myself “yes, I’m so going to get shit done today and it’s gonna be awesome” I can never guarantee that outcome. Sort of like with my old job, when I showed up to work in a clean, cute outfit, hair nicely done. When I looked at sales targets and said “that’s totally doable” only to get a billion boxes of stock and a bitchy customer (or twenty) decides to return something without a receipt or that they bought six months ago, and they won’t accept a gift card, they want CASH! And my district manager walks in at that exact moment and asks why the stock isn’t done and the sales aren’t where they should be because nobody feels like buying anything that day and the little I did manage to sell isn’t good enough. Only instead of all that it’s the dishes that didn’t get done because the baby wouldn’t let me put him down and he didn’t nap. And forget about me looking polished. I’m in yoga pants that WERE clean this morning and my hair used to be braided but now it’s been re-styled by tiny hands that like to pull out every strand of hair they can reach, and now I’m a mess and it’s 5pm and where the hell did the day go?

And I don’t get a salary or vacation time or benefits for any of it.

Without me, my husband would not have clean clothes that magically appear in his closet/dresser. Without me the dishes would pile up even more than they do right now. Without me the floors would be dirtier, the clutter would be everywhere and ridiculous amounts of money would be spent on daycare.

But because I choose to give up the “satisfaction” of “contributing to society” and providing an income, I am able to do everything that needs to be done. I keep my son happy, healthy, reasonably well-adjusted. I ensure that most of the housework is done in a reasonable amount of time and that clothes are washed and put away more than half of that time. I keep track of appointment dates and grocery lists and when I feel ambitious I organize shit to make things more efficient. I do all of this with barely any acknowledgment sometimes and often the fact that I managed to clean at all is something to be impressed by. I mean, seriously, I managed to do the dishes with a toddler at my feet trying to get into shit because he screams bloody murder whenever I put him anywhere he can’t get out of.

So fuck you and your suggestions that I should get a job. This IS my job and it’s more important than everything else I have ever done. This unpaid, 24/7 work that I do is more fulfilling than anything I could do for a paycheck. This “gig” that so many people look their nose down on me for choosing happens to be the very thing that keeps our family together. I am the only one who CAN do this job; I am an irreplaceable member of The Berryman Household, and without me the rest of the corporation cannot function as well as they need to.

Before I met Ty I was absolutely convinced that V-Day was the worst holiday ever invented to torment single people. I mean, it was literally the one day out of the year that blatantly reminded me for weeks on end (with all those stupid V-day store displays and promos) that I was having zero sex, unless you counted my vibrator. I didn’t. That thing took up a zillion batteries and died rather quickly (too quickly). Add to the fact that some of my friends and classmates took the damn holiday for granted, and I was in Hell every February 14th. My conversations with said friends often went like this:

Me: So what are you doing for V-day?

Them: We’re actually not doing anything at all. I’m working and so is he.

Me: You’re telling me you actually have a shot at getting sex and you’re not taking it??? You fucking suck. I would KILL to have a man to spoil me and give me orgasms nightly.

Suffice to say I spent those years of singledom hating V-Day and writing angsty fanfiction. In fact, I once broke up my couple in my novel just because I wasn’t getting laid, so why should my characters be so lucky? Yes, I was bitter.

Then I met Ty and we celebrated our first V-day the way one would expect: Tons of presents, a nice dinner, dessert, a romantic bubble bath and a hot night of unbridled passion. But after that one V-day, we stopped caring so much.

I know what you’re thinking. The love has gone out of our marriage. You would be wrong. I am more in love with Ty now, on our 6th V-day together, than I was that night I was eagerly getting all dressed up for our date. But as for V-day, not much love there.

Our exchange last week went something like this:

Him: So I was thinking about Valentine’s Day.

Me (thinking): We’re actually doing that this year? Crap!

Me (talking): What about it?

Him: I think we should make our presents this year.

Me (thinking): Since when do we do presents? I figured I’d just make the usual heart-shaped cookies, draw a card and call it a day!

Me (talking): Uh, okay….

But seriously, what the fuck? I was totally willing to pretend this day didn’t exist! We went out in January for a celebratory dinner (Ty quit smoking) and I figured that could double as V-day. Apparently not. My husband is completely impractical and sentimental when it comes to February 14th and actually cares about that shit. Uh, I guess, lucky me? I mean, most wives complain that their men forget V-day so I should be grateful mine isn’t like that. Right? I’m supposed to care?

Except I don’t. It’s ironic, really. I spent years of singledom whining about how I didn’t have a date for V-day and now I’m like “why are we celebrating this mundane, busy, stupid day?”

So how do I loathe thee, V-Day? Let me count the ways.

1) The hype around it. Any other day of the year I can get away with doing little things for my man to show I care and it’s more than enough, but today? Forget surprising him with fresh baked goodies or offering to cook dinner, I actually have to come up with something “special”.

2) I don’t have a hell of a lot of time to come up with something. I have a 9 month old son to entertain and keep alive every day. Do you think I have a spare moment to think up what V-day presents I could get my hubby? Or make a card? Or do anything, really? No, I really don’t. Stay at home moms work just as hard as working moms, except our boss is a pint-sized, screaming child who demands constant attention while we complete our daily to-dos like dishes, laundry and anything else that needs doing.

3) The last thing I want is to go out on the busiest day of the year, barring a REAL holiday. And yet this year we are going on a double date with a younger, childless couple. It’s just dinner and a movie, but still, it’s going to be packed and we had to already change our plans (thankfully we’re no longer going into downtown Vancouver, so that saves time on the commute) so finding a place to eat is now going to be fun. And by fun, I mean annoying, stressful, and so not worth it.

4) Going out means leaving the baby with Grandpa for more than a few hours. Now, for formula feeders this is probably no big deal, but I chose to breastfeed because I hate cleaning bottles. But now, even though we do have milk for tonight (I always freeze extra bags) I have to take my breastpump with us tonight and somehow manage to pump either in the bathroom of the restaurant or the bathroom at the movies. Because if I don’t I guarantee I’m going to look like Pamela Anderson after three hours and we’re going to be gone from 5pm until possibly midnight. So yeah, you do the math there.

5) Prep for this night out has to start at 3pm. That just means I need to shower, shave, do my hair, get dressed, put on makeup, and at the same time I’ve got to keep an eye on the baby. Because he’s going to be clinging to me the whole time and there’s nobody home to watch him for me. So yeah, this is already not going to be fun.

6) Before the 3pm prep I also need to clean the house and get things out for Grandpa. Yes, I’m taking a short break to type this out because holy crap I haven’t even had a chance to sit down since I got up at 10am today (after nursing baby through the night, because he’s teething and wants to sleep with Mommy and will scream bloody murder if he’s left in his crib). I had to wash the one bottle, the sippy cups, and make sure we have his milk and food defrosted for him. Oh, and I have to clean up the house a bit too. All this with a toddler crawling around and getting into shit because he will scream if he’s left in his play pen. Like he’s doing right now as I type this.

7) I am going to be too tired for sex tonight. That’s not to say we won’t try to get lucky tomorrow morning, but seriously, the only thing about V-day that mattered to me was getting laid. I’m not even in the mood to do it right now, with lack of sleep and a screaming baby, kind of takes me out of the moment. Plus, I really just want to sleep.

And that, my friends, is why this day sucks! I’m expected to be in the mood for love and I’m just not. I just wanted to stay in, watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch. And now I have to get all dressed up and go out with my husband and be like all the other couples on this hellish day, and smile and be happy even though 10pm is WAY too late for me to want to start a movie at the theatre and I think our friends are insane for suggesting such a thing.